Worn Out Places
by Sophia Bee
Summary: More old VM fic. Logan and Veronica get stuck in detention together, S1, S2, language


There were a million reasons why she shouldn't have been there.

If Wallace had never given up his primo juicy spot in the main office; if she had never skipped third period to try to break into the file room; if Duncan had never started ignoring her, drifting around in his own distant drug-created wonderland; If she hadn't decided to take the job that promised a measly fifty bucks and a few hours of distraction; if she'd kept her job hocking cake and coffee; if she'd never had to become Neptune's favorite teen detective in the first place.

If Logan hadn't lifted his eyes to look at her as they passed in the hallway. If the look in his eyes hadn't made something deep in her chest clench so hard it made it hard to breathe.

If that ashtray hadn't crushed into Lilly's skull two years ago and turned everything upside down, inside out and completely crazy.

If….

If none of that had ever happened, than Veronica Mars wouldn't be wedged into the uncomfortable desk, the eraser of her pencil clenched between her molars, the sun shining through the tall windows of the classroom on a Saturday afternoon. She wouldn't be pulling out her geometry book and staring at the sour-faced band teacher who'd been assigned the unpleasant duty of babysitting troublesome teens. She wouldn't feel tired all the way to the center of her soul. Instead she'd be at the beach, hanging on Duncan's arm, laughing as Lilly used her best techniques of seduction on the blond surfers, rubbing her arms with the requisite SPF 50 her dad wouldn't let her leave the house without.

Everything would be different and nothing would be the same.

The room was quiet as Veronica set her bag on the floor and opened her book to the homework assignment. Page 234, all the odd questions, page 237, even. She had a brand-new sharp pencil. Six hours and it would be over. The clock on the wall counted away the seconds.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

_Slam._

Veronica jumped at the loud bang at the sound of the door of the classroom shutting. The teacher at the desk looked up and a look of irritation crossed his face.

"You're late."

Veronica didn't look up from her homework. She just stared at numbers and words, trying to concentrate on the problems in front of her.

"Sorry, sir."

Veronica froze at the voice. _Logan._

Veronica couldn't bring herself to lift her head and look. Partly because she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she cared that it was him. Partly because whenever she saw him she was back on that pool table, a hand pressing into her windpipe, the smell of stale cigarettes and booze filling her nostrils, and she wished should could find a way to stop the tremors in her hands. Mostly because she still couldn't wipe away the image of the gun in his hand and the fear that had coursed through her body when she realized how close she was to losing him.

Fucking death wish. Fucking asshole. Fucking pathetic that she cared so much. He was right. Life would be easier if she could actually be neutral when it came to Logan Echolls.

"Sorry." Logan sneered as he slouched into the desk across from her. "My driver slept in late this morning."

"You've just added another day of detention, Mr. Echolls." The band teacher said dismissively. "Try to be on time next week."

"Aye, aye, captain."

Veronica finally managed to look at him, a quick glance to her left and she felt the shaking start again, the tears slip to the edges of her eyelids.

_Fuck you Logan._

The clock on the wall continued to tick and the air was thick with things that couldn't be said. Veronica stared at her homework, tried to write down problems without her hand shaking. Logan slumped in his chair and stared forward, no expression on his face.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

The quiet of the room was smothering. The only sound was from the teacher grading papers, looking over each one carefully, the scratch of the pencil as he made notes, the rustle as he placed them in neat piles. Every once in a while he would look up, glance around the room at the two people sitting in the desks, make sure there was no tomfoolery, no juvenile hijacks he would need to quash using his authority. After an hour he stood up and stretched.

"I'm getting coffee." He said to no one in particular, his voice laden with the reality that he was a band teacher stuck doing detention duty and not the successful musician he'd dreamed of decades ago. "Don't leave the room."

He shoved his hands into his pleated khaki Dockers and padded toward the door in the back of the room, his shoulders slumping a little. Veronica didn't look up as he passed, just stared down at her desk. The door clicked shut and she was alone with Logan.

Silence.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

"Moron."

It was almost a sigh under his breath but the word seemed like it echoed through the room. Veronica said nothing, just stared down as the numbers on the page blurred from the tears she fought to hold back.

She was in too deep in too many ways to count.

"I finally get you alone." Logan murmured. Veronica let her eyelids flutter shut. She swallowed as she felt herself drawn into the blackness that had been threatening to engulf her since the day at he club. She felt the hand around her throat again, heard the buzz of the tattoo needle. Then she found the anger and held onto it as she swirled around in the fear and violence. It was the only thing that would keep her from drowning.

"What, tired of playing with Kendall? Fucking married women getting boring?" Veronica hissed, her voice dripping with malice.

"I'm tired of her fucking your boyfriend." Logan bit back. Veronica remembered Kendall coming out of Duncan's bedroom, the smile on her face, and then she pushed the image away. Duncan wouldn't cheat. He was too good. He wasn't Logan.

"Fuck you."

They were both silent again. Veronica flipped through the pages of her book. Logan tapped his fingers on the veneered desktop.

_Rat tat tat tat tat._

She glanced over at him. His face was blank. No expression.

_Rat tat tat tat tat_

Veronica bit her lip to keep from screaming at him to stop. Stop it all. End this anger that was stuck between them. Pound him with her fists until she made him hurt like she was hurting. Make him see how insane this all was. She tasted blood and bit harder. She liked the pain. It was a pleasant distraction.

"Do you really want to die?" Veronica finally asked, her voice shaking. She was staring at anything in the room but Logan. The white board. The globe on top of the filing cabinet. The dictionary gathering dust on the bookshelf. Never him.

"There was a moment when I didn't." Logan answered, his voice quiet and serious. "A few weeks when everything felt like it might be okay. Then you fucking broke up with me."

Veronica swallowed. Her stomach churned.

"God damn it Logan, I can't save you," Veronica whispered before she could stop the words. He didn't say anything for a moment and her words hung between them. Veronica stared out the window. The sky was hazy, clouds dotting the horizon. A car drove through the parking lot. She licked her lips, her fingers idly playing with her pencil.

_Say something._

"I need someone to save me. I need you," His voice was raw. She could feel Logan looking at her, through her, into her soul. She still couldn't look back. "I don't want to die."

A sob welled in her chest, tears pricked at her eyes and Veronica dug her nails into her palm. More pain.

_Let me get through this._

"They why?" she choked as her head whipped around and she stared at him. He stared back, his eyes challenging her, full of anger and hurt and something else that she didn't want to name. "Why do you do this? Play the part of the consummate jack ass? Burn down the community pool? Make racist remarks at lunch? Fucking buy Weevil's grandmother's house? If you don't want someone to find you and kill you, why do you do this? At least have the fucking guts to put the gun to your head yourself. Put us all out of our misery…."

She wanted to look away. To stand up and leave that room, walk down the long, empty hallway, out into the parking lot, get in her car and drive as far away as she could get from this hell. Except she knew there was no escape. He would follow her no matter where she went.

He looked away. Veronica glanced at the clock on the wall.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

"Fuck you." Logan muttered softly under his breath. "Go to hell."

"You're going to hell," Veronica hissed back. "And I'm not letting you take me with me."

"What do you want me to say?" Logan's jaw was clenched, his eyes flashed with anger. "Do you want me to forgive you for dumping me, leaving me when I…I…needed you?"

"Need? You don't fucking need anyone, Logan. You exist beyond anyone's help."

"I needed you, Veronica."

"Then why? Why the fuck did you go and burn that pool?" Veronica asked. She was standing next to her desk now, her fists clenched. "I saw it Logan. The gas in the back of your car. I saw it…."

"You don't know what you saw." Logan spit. He jumped up from his desk and stepped toward her. Veronica fought the urge to turn and run away.

"I saw what you and Dick had. The pool burned that night, Logan. How fucking stupid do you think I am?"

"You never asked me, you never bothered to ask me if I did it. You just fucking assumed…"

"I saw it, Logan…," she was screaming now, her voice echoing through the empty room. He was another stop closer, and another step.

Veronica started shaking. She felt his arms close around her, felt her cheek press against the solid wall of his chest, felt his fingers stroke through her hair, felt his rib cage rise up and down. A shudder rippled through her body as she collapsed against him.

"You never asked me." Logan whispered in her hair. "You should have talked to me."

They stood like that for a long time: Logan's hands stroking her hair, his voice whispering in her ear, Veronica pressed against his chest, her arms wrapped around his back, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her from floating away.

"A fucking gun." She finally managed to mutter against his damp t-shirt. "They could have killed you."

"They didn't."

"They could have."

"I'm so scared." He whispered. Veronica held onto Logan even tighter.

"I know."

This changed nothing, none of the worn out space that seemed wedged between them. Except it changed everything. Veronica knew this and she wrapped her arms around him even tighter, listened to him breath, to the even beating of his heart. For just a moment there was nothing else.

There were a million reasons she shouldn't have been there.

The End


End file.
